Equilibrium

Chapter Eight

Nightmares plague me. I wake with a start, disoriented. The candlelight is gone and I don’t know where I am at first. There is a figure standing near the bed, a hand stretched towards me. My heart leaps into my throat until the moonlight catches him--Nehemiah, with a look of concern on his face. I am tired. Too tired to protest or even move when he takes a seat on the bed next to me. My legs feel like they are made of lead and my head is pounding, aching. After a moment, he lies down. His hands rest on his stomach and he stares upwards at nothing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, but I don’t respond. I close my eyes, but I am too still to feign sleep. My breathing is too uneven and I am too tense. He doesn’t say anything else, but after a moment his fingers lace with mine like they did so long ago when I was pulling him to safety.

I lie to myself and say that he is doing the same.

The ride home seems shorter than the ride to Chautin, but that is because I have arranged to have Nehemiah come with me. Along the way we exchange a few words here and there, learning about the ways of our different peoples. He has an escort of about ten guards, but that is all. For now, he will stay in a guest room with a door that locks until I am ready to announce him as my husband.

I am not used to that idea. When we reach the border of Genika, he dons a hood and cape. He keeps his head down as we travel through the villages. For now, he will remain a stranger and a secret. The townspeople are welcoming as I pass through, waving and smiling and shouting. They don’t understand the peace--they just know that I have brought it. Children race beside our horses and women wave, but the men stand in their doorways, looking lost.

“It’s not something they are used to,” One of my guard, Uriah, murmurs when he catches me watching. “Being home. Trying to relax. They don’t understand it, and they fear the reason behind it. They are weary, m’lady.” His words echo through my mind and I fall silent. I lift a hand in greeting to them, men I have seen and helped and saved on the battlefield. They nod in response, a hand on their hilt, their eyes straying to the stranger riding alongside me. I offer a firm nod, a reassuring one, but it is their loyalty that has some of them following at a distance, offering their silent but sure protection. And somehow, even with Nehemiah riding alongside me, I have never felt more safe.

"Emmaline! Where were you? Ezra said only that you were at someone's house and that I would not approve! I thought you were dead or-or worse!"

It is not my mom, as I had hoped would be. Instead it is our main cook, Darlene. She is short, plump, and very...eccentric. She takes the steps leading down from the palace two at a time, a feat considering the length of her legs.

"I am fine. I was at a friend's house." I don't exactly lie. I want Nehemiah to be my friend. Isn't that close enough? Guilt rockets through me nonetheless.

"You have to be in front of the Council in less than an hour! Move, mija!" She shoos me away, leaving Elias to lead Nehemiah to his room. I didn’t trust Ezra to do it. I have him meet me in my chambers and then I remind Ezra of his place. It makes him set his jaw and stare past me, but I know that he won't go against my wishes.

The meeting goes remarkably well. There is a short ceremony where I am crowned queen. I sign a few documents and then it is Nehemiah's time to shine. I excuse myself to go get him. The second I am out of sight, I am trembling with nerves. This could all go horribly wrong. If Nehemiah winds up dead, it will be on my hands. It will be my fault, regardless of who did the deed. I need this to go accordingly.

I wonder, briefly, if the Chautin would make me their leader. I dismiss that idea immediately when I remember when Nehemiah announced me as his bride. No way. They would kill me.

I try my best to embrace the task with the alacrity that Daniel once had, but I find it hard. I am too afraid. Nehemiah stands when I enter and I realize just how terrifying this must be to him...about as terrifying as it was for me, yesterday.

"I will take you in through the double doors. I am queen now, so there is nothing that they can do about it. They will voice their opinions, probably loudly, and then the ceremony will take place. I will introduce you to my people later tonight." I take a deep breath and offer my hand. Nehemiah stares at it blankly for a moment before he snaps out of his reverie and he takes it. His hands are warm and rough. They are huge compared to mine. I turn and begin to lead him to the Council room. I can feel his heartbeat through his thumb, because he is holding my hand really tightly. I don't really mind. It is a welcome distraction to my thoughts. I squeeze back just as hard. Just outside of the corridor’s heavy oak doors, line with iron, he stops me. I can see that his thoughts are working in his head, but he doesn’t voice them right away.

He does not voice them at all.

The guards lining the hall do a double-take, and a few go for their weapons. Nehemiah moves closer to me as I move closer to him. I am the only thing standing between him and his grave right now. It was probably less dangerous at his place because I am a girl. Everyone has qualms about killing a girl, I suppose, despite how sexist it seems. He is in much more danger than I ever was.

Until I remind myself of my sister.

"Put your swords back in their baldrics. He is no longer the enemy." I command with all of the authority that I can muster. Darlene emerges from the hallway to the left and she lets out a high pitched squeak when she sees Nehemiah, and then she nearly faints when her eyes catch on our intertwined fingers. The guards do as I ask, but they are not happy to.

The Council reacts much better than I expected them to. Only one man goes for his weapon, only to be stopped by one of the guards--my guard. They trust me, even as young as I am. They want to see how this plays out, and as barbaric as it may seem, they will wait for a mistake to be made before they attempt to take Nehemiah's life.

"I introduce to you Nehemiah Chautin, now High King of Chautin and soon to be King of Genika." I state plainly, and then I wait. Nehemiah is close to me--I can sense him as well as I can see the people in front of me. He makes me wary--I cannot deny it. If he tries to touch me other than holding my hand, I do not think that I will be able to control my actions. I am quivering slightly in both anticipation and dread.

"Emmaline, what is this?" My mother demands, and for once her tone is steady. The look she gives me is cold and hard. I do not react outwardly, but internally I flinch and cower from this gaze. All I have ever wanted (secretly, aside from love) is my mother's approval, and right now I am ruining every chance I ever had. I watch the remaining frayed threads of our relationship crumble into nothing. The crevice in my heart expands into a canyon.

"This is my husband. We are both tired of fighting. I saved his life and he saved mine. I am-" I begin, calmly, to explain, but she cuts me off. Someone in the room gasps. I could, as the laws go, have her head, but both of us know that I actually can't do that. Won't do it--whatever. She is not much, but she is family.

"This is asinine. Absurd. You are telling me that you intend to marry that animal-"

"Look at him!" I demand, louder than I have ever spoken before. It catches her off guard, but no more than it catches Nehemiah off guard. He jumps, visibly, and I may have thought it funny under any other circumstances. I can feel the silence settling, hot and thick and suffocating. The warmth only fuels my anger. "He is human. What have they done that is worse than anything we have done? We are the same! His heart beats like mine. He breathes like me, eats like me, like you. A queen has to be unbiased in her decisions. I am queen now. Nothing you say or do can change my mind, so keep it to yourself."

I have wounded her pride. The entire room falls silent in uncomfortable awe. Nehemiah tentatively places a hand on my shoulder and I turn to glance at him briefly. He looks as though he has just seen me, for the very first time, as if seeing me as someone other than a princess. As a person. He wants to say something, but he clams up here, where we have an audience. I wonder if I will hear his thoughts later.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I will retire." My mother is shaking. She is not just angry--she is livid. Her anger is tangible, even from where I stand a good twenty feet away. I say nothing. I don’t protest or demand she stays. I let her go, and I let the hole she leaves behind fill me.